Endor
by Becker Wein
Summary: Some stuff that happens before and after the battle of Endor. My first ever fanfic.


****

Lyra Jaskon let a bored sigh escape her lips, but quickly clamped down on it. Flying a simulation against an unfamiliar pilot wasn't the best time to let yourself slip up, especially if you had served in Rogue Squadron for two years.

Suddenly, her 'enemy' broke left and down, and Lyra almost overrode the sim's inertial compensaters to duplicate it. She had just tucked her TIE Fighter in neatly behind the X-Wing when it tried a downward corkscrew maneuver. Lyra dived after it and managed to hit the X-Wing enough times with her lasers to break through the shields. The X-Wing obligingly exploded, and the simulation ended.

"Not you again," came a voice in Lyra's general direction as she climbed out of the cockpit. It was probably another observer who had made a bet that the X-Wing was going to win. 

Lyra turned to face the pilot she had just killed in the sim. "Oh, it's you, Hobbie. I thought I was fighting a trainee, though I was thinking I recognized the style." 

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing about you," he replied.

"Yeah, that's why she beat you in a TIE Fighter," Wes Janson, the man Lyra had heard earlier, supplied.

Lyra rolled her eyes, as the expected bickering ensued between her two friends. This had been going on ever since Derek 'Hobbie' Klivian had joined the squadron, right before Hoth. "Hey," she interrupted, "either of you have any idea what this big rendezvous is leading up?" 

Both men shook their heads. "But whatever it is, it's big," said Hobbie.

"No duh!"

"Be serious, Janson. I heard that Han Solo got made a general as soon as he got back because of this mission."

Lyra whistled. Until now, Solo hadn't even been an official rebel before this. "Any idea of where Commander Skywalker is? We've barely heard from him since Hoth."

"No, not yet," answered Wedge Antilles as he walked up with Tycho Celchu. "And I would tell you pretty quick, too." 

"Well, you would, if you knew," amended Tycho. Lyra agreed. With Wedge as Luke's executive officer, the Rogues would know when their commander was back as soon as Wedge knew. 

"Hey, we'd better get to the briefing room," Wedge gasped as he looked at his wrist chrono. "We're gonna be late." 

Janson faked a long, loud yawn. It was a Rogue Squad joke referring to the length of the briefings for most their missions, with all the info that they got. Lyra reached up to slap Janson- even though he was shorter than average, she was still below his shoulder- and ran off before he could grab the long brown braid that hung down her back.

****

*****

Rogue Squadron sat solemnly in their normal booth in the _Home One_'s pilots' lounge. All the good humour had been washed out at the briefing. Tomorrow they were going to fight, and hopefully destroy, the Emperor's second Death Star. 

"Has it occurred to any of you that in thirty- two hours, most likely every single one of us will be dead?" asked Tanno, the unit pessimist. She put one of her paw-like hands over her snout and snorted, a gesture of hopelessness among Grashtions. 

Canlatan, a Hytherion, responded, "It had occurred to me, though I did not believe it was wise to speak of it. We do not wish to bring bad luck to the squadron." 

"To late," groaned Janson. "Our own commander knows it's going be a slaughtering. Why else do you think he chose to go down with the commando group?" No one had a comment that could take away the guilt Janson had just thrust upon the absent Luke Skywalker. 

"Look, it's going to be a hard day tomorrow," Lyra sighed. "I'm going to catch some sleep now, so I have time to check my X-Wing before we head out." All of the more experienced pilots - Janson, Hobbie, Wedge, Tycho, and Tanno- agreed, and slowly drifter off in the directions of their quarters.

Lyra turned to Tanno, her roommate, to try and console her. "Look, the rebellion's faced a Death Star before. Wedge was there. We'll win, no doubt about it."

Tanno simply snorted, and flopped down on her bed.

****

*****

"Rogues, check in," Wedge ordered through the comlink. "Rogue One, ready."

"Rogue Two, standing by." Tycho.

"Rogue Three, all systems a go." Canlatan.

"Rogue Four, ready." Tanno.

"Rogue Five, four lit and ready." Sabdi.

"Rogue Six, everything's good." Hobbie.

"Rogue Seven, ready." ?Jent.

"Rogue Eight, all engines ready." Cood.

"Nine here, can we speed this up?" Lyra's check-in brought a couple small chuckles, her intended result.

"Rogue Ten, ready to get killed." Janson.

"Rogue Eleven, I'm good to go." Namertoe.

"Rogue Twelve, do we have to do this?" Freyner.

"Then let's go kick some Imp butt!" Wedge said, as the Rogues launched and made the jump to hyperspace.

****

*****

"Wedge!" bellowed Janson. "Tycho! Hobbie! Where are you?"

Lyra rolled her eyes at Janson's direct way of completing what neither of them had been able to; find the other remnants of Rogue Squadron after landing on Endor for the post-battle party. "Shut up!" Lyra stood up on her toes as high as she could and covered the protest that was about to come out of Janson's mouth. He glared down at her, but Lyra was too busy listening to notice.

Yes, there it was again. Still very faint, but growing stronger. "A Rogue, A Rogue, I'm looking for Rogue Squadron! Lyra! Janson!" 

"Over here, Hobbie!" to the voice, than an indignant "Ouch" to Janson. "You bit me!"

Tycho and Hobbie, just arrived on the scene, raised their eyebrows in unison, and turned away. "I don't even want to know," sighed Hobbie.

Lyra gaped at his retreating back speechless for a moment before crying out "Gross!" Her and Janson ran catch up with the others. 


End file.
